Parallel parking like a boss

Every time I take a long road trip, and I mean every single time, I think of my high school Driver’s Education teacher, Mr. Brown.

Mr. Brown was from Mississippi, and couldn’t pronounce his Rs. He was a tad difficult to understand. Lucky for us, he spoke with a sloooow southern drawl, so we had plenty of time to figure out what he was trying to tell us.

One of the exercises he had us do, during our on-the-road classes, was to change lanes without hitting the reflectors that ran between the lanes… the ‘fump, fumps” he called them.

That’s why road trips take me down memory lane. I still try to stealthily veer around the “fump, fumps.” It’s one of the very few maneuvers I managed to master during Driver’s Ed. Which was good, because I was the first student who ever received an F in backing up.

We were supposed to navigate through a dog-leg course, in reverse. Mr. Brown made me abandon my car when I ran over one of the course traffic cones and got it irretrievably stuck up in a rear wheel well.

“Jus’ get outta da caw!”

The only thing that saved me from failing the class entirely was that I was the only student in my class who could parallel park. And, I did it like a boss. None of this multiple attempts parking, I mean I could tuck my car into that tiny space, first try, every time… still can. It was like I entered a self-transcendent state of ecstasy, my moment of zen.

I was the parking space…

I may not be able to drive backwards through a narrow zig-zag shaped alley, but if you have to park on the street, or deftly avoid small plastic objects stuck on the road, I’m your go-to gal.

The Trifecta challenge this week is: Ecstasy [noun \ˈekstəsē\] 3: trance; especially a mystic or prophetic trance

*I’m on a road trip with my little dog, Asta, to meet with an orthopedic vet at Auburn University. The pin in her injured leg had begun to migrate down and the pointed tip was irritating the back side of her knee. The doc removed the pin and order 4-weeks of complete bed rest for Asta. No more activity than when she needs to use the bathroom, walking outside, on a leash and only as many steps as necessary, and eating. I’m supposed to crate her to restrict her movements, but that is not going to be possible. Since, I’m home during the day, I think I can keep her still enough to avoid having to put her in doggy solitary. We’ll see how it goes. Hopefully, with limited movement, the bone will mend completely and she won’t require any more invasive surgery – either a screw in the bone to secure it, or a plate on her hip and femur. Fingers crossed for us both.

Conversion conversations

One foible of working from home is the great temptation to stay in pajamas all day, sans bra and makeup. It can make for awkward encounters if you feel compelled to open your front door.

He blushed a shade of pink that reminded me of a newly washed baby, a color that I wished I could duplicate on my pale, aging cheeks.

I admired his faith and dedication, but was amused that he suddenly had somewhere else to be when I offered to share my beliefs with him. Seems his door-to-door calling didn’t extend to reciprocating conversion chitchat.

The Trifecta challenge this week is: Color [noun \ˈkə-lər\] 3: complexion tint

The 100 Word Challenge is to tell a story in only 100 words. This week’s theme is ‘Calling’

Favorite mistake

A slight wind was blowing, and thick clouds kept the sun concealed. A mix of grey tones was the only delineation between the sky and the park walkway.

Having rained the night before, small puddles dotted the lawn. Paquin ambled through the wet leaves, breathing in the petrichor, wishing she could bottle that ‘after the rain’ scent.

Several small tables were spread out in a well-manicured clearing. At each, two men sat facing each other, a chess set and timing clock separating them. Paquin frowned slightly at the sight. She had hoped the rain would dampen the benches too much, and keep the wood pushers away. The time was now, though, so she couldn’t delay her plans.

Keeping to the edge of the clearing, she slid into the shadows of the forest canopy to find her favorite scrying bowl. To an outsider, it appeared to be an ordinatry birdbath. Yet, a closer inspection showed precious silver and intricate scroll designs under the green patina. Filled with rainwater from spring’s first shower, and the last leaves from winter, it was ideal for divination.

She took a cursory look over her shoulder, and in her haste, forgot a cloaking spell to shield her from prying eyes. From the amalgam of leaves and rain she pulled a simulacrum, lifting it out of the bowl to seek its counsel.

“What strange alchemy is this?”

A slight wave of her hand, and the effigy slid under the wet leaves.

Without turning, she calmly addressed the intruding old-timer.

“It is not alchemy. You did not see anything amiss. It was simply a distortion of light and shadow.”

She heard the shuffle of feet through wet leaves. Glancing back, she saw the elderly man return to his chess match, but his younger opponent remained outside her purview, a knowing smirk playing across his face.

Returning his smile, she would later tell their children this day was her favorite mistake.

The Trifecta challenge this week is: Alchemy [noun \al-kə-mē\] 3: an inexplicable or mysterious transmuting

This week’s Studio30 Plus theme is “a favorite mistake”

Small bouts of bravery

Bravery doesn’t have to mean risking your life. Bravery can mean dropping to your knees to take a serendipitous photo of a violet blooming through a sidewalk crack, and not caring who’s watching.

The Trifextra Weekend challenge is: 33 words of advice

Until proven guilty

The room was uncannily hushed when we filed into the jury box. The thrill of serving on a high-profile case was tempered by being in a position of public scrutiny if we screwed up the verdict.

For the first two days, we heard testimony from specialists and hired experts. Without our binder of documents, it would have been impossible to understand all the legal jargon.

The defendant was finally scheduled to take the stand, and the gallery was filled to capacity by the morbidly curious. News pundits were predicting a brutal cross-examination from Assistant District Attorney Bonnie Post, a woman on a campaign against domestic violence, and for her boss’ high-backed leather chair.

Looking uncomfortable in his suit and tie, the defendant kept nervously tugging at his tight collar. When answering questions from his attorney, he leaned awkwardly toward the microphone at the witness stand, until the judge told him he didn’t need to move.

After an hour, Post stepped up. The hatred she felt toward him was palpable.

“Do you feel like a man when you push her around?” She wasted no time in her attack. “Do you beat all your girlfriends?”

The judge fielded objections from his attorney on nearly every question the ADA posed.

“Why did you try to kill the victim?”

“I didn’t try to kill her,” his voice rising. “After I made it rain at the restaurant, throwing all her whore money back in her face, she came at me.”

“She’s nearly half your size, you expect the court to believe you felt threatened?” Post added a condescending chuckle to punctuate her question.

“Her size didn’t matter,” bringing his volume back under control. “A knife can kill big people too. I pushed her to get away from that switchblade. It wasn’t the first time she tried to cut me.”

Unbuttoning his shirt, he revealed crisscrossed pink scars on his chest, evidence of prior attacks.

“Women aren’t the only victims of domestic violence.”

The Trifecta challenge this week is: Rain [transitive verb \rān\] 3: to take a lot of money in bill form and toss it up in the air.

For the Scriptic prompt exchange this week, Diane gave me this prompt: Do you feel like a man when you push her around?.

I gave Julia Mae this prompt: Interpret the quote however you want, and you don’t have to use the actual quote: “The present was an egg laid by the past that had the future inside its shell.”–Zora Neale Hurston

Light your own fire

He was the light of her life. When that flame burnt out, he abandoned her in her darkest hour, frightened and alone. At the end of the day, she found her light within.

The Trifextra weekend challenge is: exactly 33 words including an idiom

Tucked away

I wrote your vengeful words on a torn scrap of paper, folding it into four corners to hold in the strictures, then tucked it into an old, musty book. The one that sits on a high shelf, never read, just gathering dust and losing its memories.

Plaguing my weary mind, I muted their chittering demands for release. Hidden away, ignored but not forgotten, so the black germs of your contagion wouldn’t continue to infect my spirit.

I should have burnt your words, destroying each one forever. Still I hoard them, keeping them within reach, to someday return them back to you.

The Trifecta challenge this week is: Infect [transitive verb \in-ˈfekt\] 3a: contaminate, corrupt

The 100 Word Challenge is to tell a story in only 100 words. This week’s theme is ‘Tuck’

*Photo venue: The stacks at Niceville Library, Niceville, FL